


The Sixth Day of Christmas

by Winklepicker



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [6]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fake Dating, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, not by Kylo, of hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 00:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17632739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winklepicker/pseuds/Winklepicker
Summary: On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...A fake dating fic in a treeeee





	The Sixth Day of Christmas

“Oh shit shit shit. Oh god!”

As Hux fluttered around the flat, hopping into a dress shoe one minute, flapping about an untied bowtie the next, Kylo tuned only halfway in to his muttering. He lounged the full length of the couch, scrolling with his thumb.

“I need a date.”

“Uh huh.” Kylo’s eyes never left his phone but he could feel Hux standing there, waiting. And then came the patented Annoyed Huxian Sigh.

“I need _you_ to be my date.”

Kylo blinked unseeing at his screen a moment before he squinted up at Hux. “Excuse me?”

Rolling his eyes never helped his cause but Hux did it all the same. “My father is hosting a party tonight. Very big do. Diplomats, heads of state, VIPs galore. I need someone to keep the vultures away, and I want to annoy my father as much as possible. You are the stone helping me kill two birds.”

“How’s that?”

“With you on my arm I won’t have to deal with every disgusting social climber trying to weasel their way into my trousers in order to get into my father’s good graces.”

“And the second bird? How are you going to annoy him?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” Hux waved this away. “He loathes you.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“Of course he knows you. Well, he knows _who_ you are. Well, he knows who your mother is.”

Kylo sighed. “And what exactly do I get out of this arrangement?”

“My eternal gratitude?” Hux knew how to deploy a damn fine disarming smirk and he deployed it hard.

Only a dubious tipped up eyebrow was returned.

“I’ll do bathroom duty for three months?” 

“I’d prefer something a little more, shall we say, tangible.”

“Fine,” Hux crossed his arms in a huff. “A grand, for your services. Maybe two.”

“Make it two and a half and I’ll throw in some plausible enthusiasm.” And with that, Kylo returned his full attention to his phone.

“Deal.”

 

The party was as boring as Kylo had figured. He was dragged from dull conversation to mind-numbing conversation, forced to smile and laugh and mingle with the sort of people he’d left home at fifteen to avoid. 

As long as they were promenading Hux was touching him, on the small of his back, holding his hand. All part of the deal. But then came the woman in the practically painted-on gold dress whose hands strayed to Hux’s chest, his arms, his face. There began the dance of Hux twisting away, angling his body, leaning back, anything to get out of her reach without causing a scene. And there too began to rise a new sensation in Kylo. Fury, outrage, _mine_. Perhaps it had shown in his face, because that was also when Hux began stroking the back of his neck. 

Had Kylo known he had a switch back there he’d have worn scarves more often. It was like the burn of the noon sun, like the zap of a door handle on a static-y day, like a punch in the face by a fist made of ice-cream. Kylo Ren was terrible at similes but with that one firm stroke down his nape he was suddenly a master at noticing even the slightest touch.

Forgetting how to breathe every time Hux touched him was not something he’d factored into the night. Hux. _This_ Hux. The Hux who’d handed him a ten page exam to “ascertain his suitability as a flat mate”. His prissy, uptight, bad-tempered, scary, sweet, funny, cute, hot room mate. 

Oh no no. Catching feelings was not part of the deal. And so he refused to think about it. So what if his skin tingled and his heart thudded hard in his chest each time Hux’s hands made their slinky delicate way onto his body. That could mean anything, including an oncoming case of the flu. 

He reached out to grab his fourth wine from a passing tray when a swift hand intercepted him. 

“May I remind you of the terms? If you embarrass me, you get nothing.”

That lily white hand gripping his wrist sent licks of fire up his arm—he wanted to bite it. He stared at it, shook himself. “Am I embarrassing you?”

“You might do if you keep drinking,” Hux sniffed. 

Kylo groaned. “Fine. How much longer is this thing.”

“There’ll be a few speeches, some awards. I’d say it’s acceptable to disappear after that.”

They faced into the room, side by side, watching the mass of bodies ebb and flow.

“So, how am I doing?” Kylo’s body swayed to the side to bump Hux’s shoulder. He caught himself in time and swayed back. “Who are the potential vultures of the Huxian pants I’ve been deterring?”

Hux peered over the crowd, rising on the tips of his toes. He pointed at a portly man in a crimson suit. “That’s the head of a magazine my father’s in negotiations to acquire. He’s hoping to keep his position.”

“Will he?”

“Not a chance. He’s the reason they’ve been sued into bankruptcy. He was swanning over before, took one look at you, and spun back around.”

Kylo snorted. “Who else?” He watched Hux searching the crowd, slid his eyes along his profile and screeched to a halt at his slightly parted lips. He whipped around to look straight ahead. He had not just imagined grabbing Hux by the waist, shoving him into a dark corner, and devouring every morsel he was willing to give. And if he had, it was the wine. Or a fever. Or. He swallowed and swallowed at the lump in his throat that refused to budge.

He was in no condition then to have those lips suddenly brushing at his ear, sending out gusts of warm air. “See that guy watching us? The one with the moustache that makes him look like he’s bad at drinking cappuccini?”

The tight band around Kylo’s chest relaxed a little with the opening for their familiar snark. “Did you just say cappuccini?” He turned with a grin to find Hux hadn’t moved an inch. They were breathing each other’s air. Air that seemed scarce for both of them. Air that crackled with violent abandon. 

Kylo’s grin wilted under that emerald-fire stare as he searched Hux’s face for a clue to his next move. “So…” his voice cracked, he cleared his throat. “Moustache guy?” he whispered.

Hux narrowed his eyes, tilted his head. “Mm-hm. Moustache guy,” he whispered back. “Henrik Meas. Utter sleaze with a fetish I won’t give name to, unrepentant gold-digger, and yet has the complete approval of my father.” He snaked his arms up and around Kylo’s neck. “Two birds for you right there.”

The entire thing happened without the presence of Kylo’s mind. He was out of it. On another plane. Watching himself from above as Hux surged against him. This was part of the deal. This was not part of the deal. It was. It wasn’t.

A stinging tug on his hair brought him crashing back into his body, standing frozen as a statue as Hux’s lips slid off his with a wet pop. “I’m paying for plausible enthusiasm not,” Hux tipped his chin at him, “deer in headlights, or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.” 

“No idea.” Kylo shook his head. “Hux, I think we need to ta…”

“Armitage!” An oily voice interrupted. 

Hux searched Kylo’s face, a suspicious frown on his own, before he let loose an exasperated sigh. “Henrik. Fancy seeing you here.” He rolled his eyes at Kylo before turning to moustache guy.

He was asking for it—the special sort of Huxian fury Kylo seemed to attract no matter what he did. But this time he would really earn it. Before Hux had the chance to introduce him he’d slipped from his arms, muttered something about drinks, and skipped away, ignoring Hux’s call.

A train and two buses later, he was home—bowtie shoved in his pocket, shirt part way undone, jacket over his arm. He fumbled for the light switch, his only thought flopping into bed and not moving for a considerable number of hours.

“You took your time.”

“Jesus _fuck_ , Hux!” 

Hux sat on the couch, legs crossed, his arms spread along the back. His tie hung loose around his neck. He was furious.

“Care to explain?” He unfolded from the couch, rising in one fluid movement, and stalked toward to Kylo. “If you think you’re getting paid for that charade tonight… I had to contend with Henrik on my own, thanks to you.”

Kylo skirted past him, flopped onto the couch and sat with his head resting on his hand. “I’m sorry, okay.”

“Sorry? Hux folded his arms. “Oh, please, spare me. You’re still not getting a cent, and furthermore…”

“Fine by me.”

Hux stuttered in his tirade. “You what?”

“It’s fine, really. I didn’t hold up my end of the deal, and I don’t want your money.”

Hux opened and closed his mouth until he found his words. “You’re not even going to argue?”

“Do you want me to?” Kylo sat back. His eyes strayed to the coffee table and stayed there. Anywhere but Hux.

“No. Well, I don’t know.” Hux paused. “Are you sure you’re quite alright?”

Kylo wavered. If he was braver he’d tell him. That his heart was beating that little bit faster after tonight. That he could’t believe how long it had taken him to see. Or he could do none of that. He could let loose with the lie on the tip of his tongue, that he was feeling ill. That he’d received terrible news from his family. 

But before he thought too hard, he reached a compromise instead. Kylo stood, took the steps—two, three—to Hux, and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. He stayed there a moment, eyes closed, smelling cinnamon and sweat, before he pulled away.

“Goodnight, Hux.”

He left Hux staring after him with a hand to his face and questions for the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what happened here. This might _might_ get a sequel and a resolution. Because the boys should be happy. And possibly naked.


End file.
